


Christmas

by alley_oops, HeadmasterFelix



Series: Aidan Turner and Jamie Campbell Bower: Citadel [5]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, British Singers RPF, Real Person Fiction, The Mortal Instruments (Movies) RPF
Genre: Christmas, Gift Giving, M/M, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 13:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14521503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadmasterFelix/pseuds/HeadmasterFelix
Summary: Jamie comes to visit Aidan in NYC while he's working on a project between seasons of Poldark. Talking, gift giving, and Jamie continues to chip away at Aidan's heterosexuality.





	Christmas

"Jamie!" Aidan exclaims, throwing open the door to his rented flat and embracing his friend. "Finally, Jesus! Come in, come in," he invites, then locks up behind. "The website was saying the snow would ground your flight in New Jersey. Who the fuck needs that?"

Jamie grins and drops his suitcase to hug him properly, wrapping both arms around him tightly. "This flight always fucks with me. Like, my plane took off from London, what, three hours ago? But I was on that damn thing for half a day."

"Yeah, it messes me up too. You'll sleep it off. I mean, that's why you're here, right?" Aidan says, ducking into the tiny kitchen and grabbing a couple cold beers. "You've got a lot to recover from. How'd things end up with your record?"

"Among other things," Jamie mumbles to himself with Aidan's comment about sleep. "Ah, well. Went well. Set for a February release, and um..." He takes a seat and sighs. "We're um... we're touring." He smiles like even he doesn't know if this is good thing or not.

Aidan shoots him a quizzical look, and flops back onto the sofa with his own bottle. "That's great, yeah? I mean, it sounds great. Are you excited?"

"Ehhhh???" He just laughs at himself and rubs his forehead before taking a large swallow of the beer. "I love those guys, but I don't know if I can survive over a month on the road with them. Being in a studio five hours a day for a few weeks was bad enough. Plus, I've checked, and every one of them is straight. And not the fun kind of straight like you are. So I won't even be able to put the tension to good use."

"The fun kind of...?" Aidan dissolves into snickers. "I have missed you. How did you check?"

"Well, for Sam I didn't bother to because I'm not that kind of kinky, Roland and Jimmy I asked, because we're not _that_ close, and uhm... tried to kiss Tristan once a few years back?" He smiles sheepishly.

"Tried," Aidan echoes, raising an eyebrow, lips quirked in amusement. "How badly did that go?"

He's blushing now. "Bad enough he um... called me something quite not-nice, but okay enough that we started a band? Definitely not an experiment I plan to repeat."

Aidan shakes his head with a chuckle. "Your sense of self-preservation... I trust it's not as razor-thin as it used to be. Have you gotten to hit up Citadel at all since you joined?"

 _Constantly._ "Yeah, a few times. I'm certainly not letting my money go to waste. Had kind of a thing with a woman I met there for a little while," because that is a much safer story than what he's been doing with house employees.

"Yeah?" Aidan takes a pull of his beer. "Was it a good experience, all said and done?"

Jamie has to actually think on that. "She was incredible in bed. We got along flawlessly. But we can hardly look at each other anymore and I'm pretty sure her new boyfriend would seriously hurt me if it wouldn't ruin his career and membership. So... probably?"

"What's that thing they say? 'Any one that you can walk away from'?" Aidan says with a snicker. Although he can't help but wonder why a flawless incredible-in-bed relationship is something Jamie would want to walk away from at all. "It sounds like you had an amazing rebound. Now you can move on from all of them."

He nods, but his tone is a little flat as he adds, "Well, cheers to that," and takes a long drink. He struggles with what to say for a moment, thinks about asking Aidan the same but quickly realizes he doesn't want to hear about it. "How's the job going?"

"It's good. Cold and wet, makes me feel at home," Aidan chuckles. "I'm off to Poland next month and I think I'd really rather visit in summer. Oh well. It should prove to be an Experience," he says, with an audible capital E. "Oh shit, where are my manners?" he exclaims. "Are you hungry? We can call for whatever. That's one of my favorite things about living in this city, is the 24-hour delivery." It definitely isn't the ugly-ass minuscule apartments.

"Mnn, you're Irish, so I don't really expect you to have any," he teases, barely subduing a playful grin. "I want something... healthy-ish, bizarre as that is. I can't tell you how sick I am of pizza, the greasiest fucking chips, and Indian take-out."

"Is that what you were living on? Yeah, that'd get old fast. And I have... decent manners," he protests, in affected offense. "Although my mother certainly never thought they existed, judging by how often she asked me where they were. 'Aidan Thomas Donaghue Turner! Have you been running with the wolves again?'"

"Well it's a fair question. Knowing you, you probably were." And now he can't keep that grin down.

"Eh. More than likely," Aidan admits with a shrug. He grabs a few paper menus from their designated kitchen drawer. "This one, maybe," he says, handing Jamie one emblazoned with the name Joon's Café. "I don't know what the fuck is up with all the _cafés_ around here, though. I feel like, you're American. Get over yourselves."

He snickers at that. "Their mascot is an enormous French statue, you can't blame them for some cultural confusion." Jamie picks up the menus and flips through them, eventually settling on a sandwich shop. After getting ordering out of the way, he finishes his beer.

Aidan lets his head loll back on the ugly gray suede sofa, slumping in contentment. "How was your Christmas?"

Jamie groans and rolls his eyes. "My parents are very proud of Sam for how seriously he's taking the band and what a hard worker he is and how they always knew he was an artist at heart and it's amazing he's gone into music like they were and blahblahblah. I, on the other hand, got asked a lot about why I don't have a girlfriend and what do I keep doing that drives them all away. Dad tried to give me sex tips, and mum tried to sit me down and tell me it's okay if I'm gay, she just wants to me to be honest with her. Oh, and that being gay isn't an excuse to not give her grandkids these days."

Planting his face in his hand, Aidan snickers helplessly. "I bet she even wants human ones, at that. So demanding. But your dad... Have you ever heard of the Irish foreplay how-to book? We're very proud of it, culturally. It's called, _Brace Yourself, Bridget!_ I think I have a copy you can borrow."

"I... I think I do all right, thanks." He's clearly skeptical this thing even exists. "But, I mean, you have seen me in action," his look of confused disbelief fades into neutrality with a subtle but growing smirk as he reminds them both. "You seemed pretty impressed at the time but I suppose if you think I need a little extra help..."

"Nah, I don't think you need it," Aidan assures him. Yeah, he remembers seeing Jamie in action, as it were. Hell, it was an amazing night, and not one he's likely to ever forget. "I'm a little disconcerted that your father would take it upon himself to guide you, though. Did he tell you anything useful?"

"Well, you see, Aidan." He sits up properly and puts on his best Dad Voice. "It's important that you listen to her needs. Now, see, she's a woman, so she's not going to tell you what that is, it's your job to figure it out, to learn what she needs. And don't be afraid to spice things up, a little oral sex never hurt anyone."

Aidan's jaw drops. "Oh, my god." He shudders. "I think the worst bit about getting sex advice from your da is knowing that his experience is largely based on your mum. Christ." His eyes dance. "Of course, he's wrong. Sometimes it hurts."

"It's fortunate that talk came before the one with my mother. I think if I'd been just a little more irritated he would've heard way more about my experiences than either of us want him to." He slumps into the couch again. "And in my experience, it only hurts when you're going down on a guy and they're taking too long."

With a wry chuckle, Aidan lets it go. Because that's not how he planned this conversation tonight, is it? "I get that crap about not having a girlfriend, too. I always walk away from it feeling defective. There's nothing like your family reinforcing your secret paranoia that there really is something wrong with how you are, and that's why no one's in love with you."

Jamie sighs softly and nods. "It's this damn expectation of romantic love, too. Like... it's drilled in that if it isn't romantic, it doesn't count. We're both loved immensely, by each other even – at least, I hope the feeling's mutual – but we've got it in our heads that that... I don't know, means less or some shit. Like can't they... Can't _I_ just be pleased I've surrounded myself with good people who love me? Why does one of them have to be someone who wants my babies or whatever the hell."

"Because, Jamie, if you're not receiving your emotional fulfillment and your physical fulfillment all from the same person, then it doesn't count," Aidan sing-songs. "And of course I love you. I love you like a brother. Do _you_ want your babies?"

"Not really, I feel like they'd interfere with my drinking and fucking time even more than the band does." He can't seem to let that last part go though, even though he feels like he's trying. "Joke's on them, I _can_ receive emotional and physical fulfillment in the same person without being 'in love' or whatever. Had with you and with Taylor." He huffs a little, at the world, not at Aidan.

“Really? With me?" Aidan asks, surprised. And pleased. A buzz from the door brings him to his feet to get the wall intercom. "Yeah, send him up," he tells the building guard, and snags his wallet from the kitchen island. "Food! And..." He pops to the fridge and hands Jamie a fresh beer. Then grins. "Speaking of drinking time." 

"Sweet, precious alcohol." He takes a drink from his basically as soon as he gets it, and finally manages to shut up about all the feelings. "Anything you wanna do tonight other than drink and gab?"

"Yeah. I want to fucking go to bed. I have a really early call. Here," Aidan says, distributing their food onto the ottoman. He uses it as a coffee table anyway. 

"So you're saying we're _not_ staying up until dawn watching terrible movies, making fun of them, and then feeling bad for the actors because our first roles weren't any better?" He smiles and digs into the food.

"Tomorrow night? Absolutely. You should start making a list," Aidan laughs. "Are you starting to feel human again after your flight?"

"I really am. Socializing with someone other than an investment banker who's too insistent about shagging me in the plane bathroom, and a high-end escort who was too insistent on not shagging me in the plane bathroom... That helps."

Aidan dissolves into laughter. "Poor, poor Jamie."

Jamie snickers at the way Aidan falls apart a little. "What? I was willing to pay for his time. The club has certainly taught me that professionals are well worth the price." A pause, just to take and swallow a bite, "Although to be entirely fair, I was only doing it to show the banker that my sexuality was not the issue there."

"Jesus fuck." Aidan snickers and finishes his sandwich. "Oh – I forgot! Let me just..." He trashes the rubbish and steps into the bathroom to clean up. Then he presents Jamie with a shiny red-and-green gift bag. 

"Is it Christmas Eve already!?" He covers his mouth, shocked and delighted, but despite his apparent sarcasm, he is quite excited to take the bag. "I've got something for you, too. You wanna do them together?"

"Yeah, good." Now Aidan is impatient for Jamie to give over his gift already, whereas before he hadn't really thought about it.

He rolls his eyes and opens up his suitcase, retrieving a package wrapped in blue and silver paper, but he holds it hostage until he digs in for his gift.

His first reaction to the simple opal ring, encased in a blue velvet box, is clearly that it's absolutely beautiful. He bites his lip and smiles softly before feeling the need to diffuse the warm fuzzy feelings with humor. "Aidan, are you proposing? My parents will be delighted."

"What?" Aidan is stunned, then he shakes his head. "No, I– it just reminded me of you," he explains. "All the colors."

Jamie laughs and grins. "God, you really are priceless. I know you've got better sense than to propose to someone like me," he continues to tease.

"I love it, and you're right. Somehow it..." he looks back down to the ring and his expression goes soft again, voice just a little quieter. "It really does seem like me. Thank you." Clearing his throat, Jamie looks a little embarrassed by his reaction, and shoves Aidan's gift at him.

"Someone like you?" Aidan mutters, swiftly unwrapping his gift. He lifts the bottle of 18-year Jameson with something approaching awe, then reads the printed official-looking slip guaranteeing the bearer a tour of the distillery. "This is lovely." Looking up with a big smile, he asks, "Wait, are you trying to get me drunk enough to snog you?"

Jamie snickers. "For one thing, you don't get drunk on that, it requires more reverence, thank you. And for another, I doubt I'll really have to get you that drunk next time."

Aidan pauses in his search through the kitchen cabinets for appropriate glassware. "You doubt it, do you?" On some, such a claim might look excessively smug. But somehow Jamie manages to make it charming. " _Next_ time?"

He shrugs and tries to subdue the impishness in his smile. With a lofty voice, "The sensual appreciation of James Metcalfe Campbell Bower knows no bounds of gender or sexuality, my friend. And now that your mind has been open to such a truth..." the lofty drops, and is just smug and playful now, "Yeah, there'll be a next time."

"Hmmm." Aidan stops pretending the issue was ever in doubt. He sits back down and pours them each out a fair measure of whiskey. "But not tonight," he says, toasting Jamie with his glass.

"Good lord no, not tonight. I've got a reputation to uphold and I'm far too tired for that." Jamie is smiling as he takes the whiskey in hand, subdued but genuine in its depth. "Happy Christmas, Aidan."

"Happy Christmas." Gold and smooth on Aidan's tongue, and goes down easy.


End file.
